Five Bucks
by CentonEqualsWin
Summary: Five Bucks. It can get you a Foot-long from Subway, or something a whole lot more interesting. Spring Fling Prompt.


Five Bucks

Pairing: Edge/Chris Jericho

Rating: T, for kissing and one bad word.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I don't make money from this. I don't know if this is what they really do… You know this. I know this. I think even freaking Bob the Builder knows this!! Bob the Builder kinda scares me… He talks to cars and trucks and says they can fix anything… freaky… I don't own Bob the Builder, Lady Gaga, the song Bad Romance, or the power of the echo, either.

A/N: So, I was just thinking about the episode of RAW where Shaq called Chris Christina, and I got the pairing from EroSenin'sDeciplesKJT spring fling prompt. A light bulb clicked on over my head… and this was born.

ONWARD!

Five Bucks

"I'm bored." I whined, my voice echoing slightly off the locker room walls. Noticing this awesome phenomenon, I giggled, and did it again. "I'm BORED!" I yelled, and three repeats came back to me. "ECHO!" I cried, jumping up from the bench, the slapping sound of my boots echoing as well. I laughed forcefully, and it sounded like one of those laugh track things. Sweet. "Rah rah ah ah ah!!!" I cried, about to start singing "Bad Romance" as loud as I could.

"COPELAND! SHUT! UP!" I heard Chris Jericho's angry voice echo with the remnants of the last "ah" I sang. I grinned, and turned around, seeing my friend Chris Jericho fastening his jeans. He'd been publicly humiliated, being kissed and called a girl on TV, so I guess he'd have a reason to be snippy. However, would I be a nice, caring friend and back off and let him alone? No, that's why he's got Shawn and Hunter. Me? I pour salt in wounds, baby.

"Oh, you know you just want my singing voice… Christina," I smirked, looking over to see what Chris would do.

He froze, and stood up almost robotically. Turning slowly, he shot me a look that would have made the Undertaker pee himself. The Cheshire cat grin immediately fell from my face, and Chris marched – not walked, _marched _– up to me. His blue-eyed glare pierced into me, and I felt my blood literally run cold.

"I am… not… Chris_tina_," he hissed, "and I don't know who you think –" He was stopped mid-sentence as I planted a kiss on his forehead, much like had happened earlier tonight. He closed his eyes, like he was trying to process what had just happened, and glared up at me. "Adam, what the hell?"

I smirked down at the smaller man. "Relax," I joked, "I'm not being serious. Serious would be tonsil hockey, not that. Calm down, Chrissie." He shot me another glare, and went back over to his locker so he could grab his shirt.

"I don't know why you keep calling me girly names tonight, _Addie_," Chris shot at me, a smirk coming to his lips as his head poked through the top of his favorite black Metallica t-shirt. "Almost like you want to think of me as a girl so you can not worry 'bout being gay." He smiled at me, and I smirked back.

"And what if I did?" I asked.

Oops.

Thankfully, Chris either didn't notice my slip-up, or he thought I was just continuing our banter by raising the bar.

"Then I'd have to go over there and tell you that, even though we're both guys, it's ok for you to have those 'feelings'" he said, making air quotes, "because I'm just such a sexy beast."

I snickered. "Conceited much?"

He laughed, and walked over to me. "No, confident. Tell ya what. I'll prove that you wanna get together with me. $5 bet?"

"Ok," I replied, shaking his hand. As soon as I released him, he took his shirt right back off.

"Eh?" he asked, as if I was supposed to melt into a puddle of goo or something. I cracked up.

"Nope." I replied, chuckling at his expression, plunking down onto the bench.

"Ok, Plan B." He sat on the bench next to me, and started kneading my inner wrist. I gasped, remembering that I'd told him about a month ago that was my "secret spot". He was using that against me to win a bet? He leaned over to my ear, and whispered something about no one resisting the awesomeness that is Chris Jericho. Chris licked his way down the side of my neck, and started planting hot kisses along my collarbone, dampening the thin t-shirt I was wearing. "Ok, Copeland, you can handle this," I told myself. Then his hands. Damn him, running them up and down my back before tangling one in my hair as he finally reached my other ear, murmuring about me losing that bet. I got these funny little spots in my vision, and let out the breath that I didn't know I was holding in. He growled something to me that was apparently supposed to sound sexy.

Honestly, I didn't hear him. I grabbed him up, and laid him down slightly too hard on the bench. He grunted, but I clamped onto his mouth before he had much of a chance to protest. A small war of tongues and swelling lips broke out, before I finally dominated. He sighed happily, and I finally broke us apart so I could breathe.

"Five bucks, please," Chris smirked, hand out. I groaned and handed him the bill. "Ya know, Addie, you and me are a pretty sexy couple. We can make anyone who walks through that door have a freaking nosebleed." I laughed, and resumed our kissing. The door banged open, and we broke apart, staring at Paul Wight (Big Show), who was regarding us warily. After what seemed like an eternity, he screamed.

"MY EYES! AHHH!" Paul ran screaming down the hallway, and I looked at Chris.

"According to him, you're wrong."

Chris shrugged, and sat up. "Eh, who cares what a non-believer like him thinks?"

I laughed, glad that he had made the one and only bet I knew he would win.

-The end, please review!-


End file.
